


Shiny and Gold

by stuffnthings9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Mad Max AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7357771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffnthings9/pseuds/stuffnthings9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To solidify the alliance between Gas Town and the Citadel, Sansa is sent to marry Jaime Lannister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arranged

Dust. Sansa awoke, as she did every morning, to the taste of dust. The air was hot and dry, the sun high in the sky, and today, Sansa would leave Gas Town for the first time. 

The sky was bright blue and cloudless as she lounged in her sand bath. Her nurse, Mordane, rubbed away at Sansa’s skin, using the sand to clean her. It was warm and soothing, having the dead skin scrubbed off with the sun-heated sand. Her weekly bath was always her favourite ‘chore’ and it had been since she was a child.

Sansa was a woman now. A woman grown, and being sent away for marriage. 

She'd heard of her husband-to-be. Everyone had. Jaime Lannister. Guilded Lion. Commander of Robert Baratheon’s personal guards. He had killed Mad Aerys in the uprising that had led to Robert Baratheon taking charge of the Citadel. The three towns had conspired against the Targaryen, but it'd been Jaime who killed him. Everyone knew of Jaime Lannister. But Sansa had never seen him before. 

Pulled out of her musings and bath by Mordane, Sansa shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. In just hours, she'd be in the Citadel being wed to Jaime Lannister. 

The alliance of the three, between Gas Town, the Citadel, and the Bullet Farm, was solid, but alliances had to be maintained to be strong, her father said. He and Robert Baratheon were the best of friends, but the cities had to be close for future generations as well. Keep the power in the family, she supposed. It was out of duty, not love, that she would become a Lannister of the Citadel. However, from what she had heard, it would be no great hardship to marry the Guilded Lion. After all, everyone knows that gold is better than chrome.


	2. Chained

The Citadel was like nothing Sansa had ever seen before. The air was clear enough to not need her respirator, and atop the rock formation was a patch of lush green. Gardens, they were called. Inside, the air felt thick and heavy with moisture. It beaded with sweat droplets on her skin, rolling down in itchy trickles along her face and sides and thighs. Perhaps this was what rain felt like? She'd only ever heard of it in ancient stories from Nan. 

 

Serving girls stripped her of her dark grey clothes, and wrapped her in flowing white garments of some gauzy material that was softer than anything she'd ever felt. Even in the new clothes, she sweated profusely. The heat made her dizzy and disoriented, until a glass of white liquid was pressed into her hand. It was sweet and creamy, and when she drank it, she felt revived. 

 

“Mother’s Milk,” one of the girls told her, gently leading her through rocky tunnels, up through the Citadel. 

 

If she thought she'd have some time to get used to the Citadel and its inhabitants before her wedding, she was wrong. 

 

She was led to a chamber with wide windows, and inside, stood the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She was tall and golden, from her skin to her hair, and dressed in crimson gauze the colour of fresh blood. 

 

“Little Dove, you have been awaited,” the woman said, stretching a hand out to Sansa. She must be Cersei, for no one else could be this perfect looking. 

 

Sansa took the outstretched hand and was surprised when Cersei’s nails dug into her skin. A sharp bite from the lioness. Sansa winced, but said nothing. 

 

“You are to be my sister now, and I'll not have you be anything less than perfect for my brother. I trust you know how to behave?” 

 

Sansa frowned up at Cersei and was caught in her emerald gaze. It was as though she'd been flayed and vivisected in a single moment. Like the other woman could see everything of her. 

 

“My only wish is to be a good wife,” she said softly. 

 

“He'd rather not take you to wife, you know. He'd just as soon remain unmarried. Our father and my husband are forcing this alliance upon him. He doesn't want you.”

 

Sansa let her face remain passive. She didn't understand why Cersei had to tell her these things. Why she had to be cruel and harsh. It wasn't as though Sansa was unaware that she was entering into an arranged marriage, rather than a love match. It was her duty to her family to secure this alliance. She had grown up knowing that she'd have to marry for political strategy one day. She did her duty gladly and without argument for the sake of her family, but it did not bring her joy to be given to a man she'd never met. 

 

“Of course,” Sansa agreed with a nod. 

 

“Good. Now that we have that settled, come, it is time.”

 

Sansa followed a few steps behind Cersei, up through the Citadel and into the gardens. There, her husband awaited her with Robert Baratheon and his war council and guards. She'd heard that he went nowhere without them. Cersei took her place at the side of Robert and looked on stormily as Sansa walked alone toward them. She felt so very small in front of so many important people. At the centre of them, stood Jaime Lannister. 

 

Although he was commander of Robert’s guards, he didn't look like the rest of them. His skin was unpainted and unpowdered. Rather than the sickly white skin the other men wore, Jaime left his naked. He was tanned to a near golden finish, matching his long golden curls. It struck Sansa as she walked toward him, that he looked so very like his twin sister. Matching golden lions. How could she ever look as good next to him as his sister must? 

 

When she reached his side, he turned to face her, and took her hands in his before Robert Baratheon. His left hand was flesh, his right was an artistry of golden biomech. She could see where his arm ended, just above his wrist joint. He was part God, now. Machine mixed with man. The War Boys must revere him all the more for this addition. 

 

His face was more handsome than she'd imagined, free of scar and blemish. The only flaw was a nose that must have been broken a few times. His green eyes stared vacantly over her head, off into the distance somewhere, and she knew that what his sister had told her was true. He clearly had no interest in her. He didn't seem angry, though, as his sister had, and Sansa hoped that perhaps she could make something of the marriage. 

 

Few words were spoken. Her right wrist was chained to Jaime’s left, and their palms slashed open to mix their blood. They would be one, now, sealing the alliance for another generation. 

 

As soon as the wedding was finished, Jaime began to walk away, and Sansa had no choice but to follow. To be certain she was properly bred, it would be a week before the chains came off. Though she was tall for her 15 years, Jaime was taller, and she had to run slightly to keep pace with his long strides. 

 

Every so often she stole a glance up at him as they walked along the halls to… wherever he was taking them. His brow was slightly furrowed, but it was his hair that was most enchanting. He left it long, and more than likely brushed it, as it was tangle free and shone like his metal hand. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. 

 

Jaime led them along a hall to a vault door set into the stone. He opened it to reveal a large room with a glass wall that looked out over the wastes. Sansa longed to press her hands against it and look out at the view, but she was chained to Jaime and he kept walking through the chambers. They'd gone through three rooms by the time he stopped in a bedroom. 

 

The bed was large, much bigger than the one she shared with her sister back in Gas Town. Green paint chipped off the walls, and the glass ceiling of the room was stained a dirty brown colour. It filtered in and cast a dingy light around. Added to their arranged marriage, it was hardly a romantic venue for a first week with one’s spouse. 

 

Jaime stopped in the middle of the room and sighed, staring at the bed. 

 

“My name is Sansa,” she took the chance to introduce herself. 

 

“I know your name.”

 

“I know. But we haven't properly met,” she explained. 

 

Jaime turned toward her with a quizzical expression. 

 

“We haven't, have we? You can call me Jaime, then.”

 

“It's nice to meet you,” she shifted her left hand to shake his metal one. He awkwardly grasped her hand and she winced when the cut on her palm rubbed against the metal. 

 

“Likewise,” he said, gingerly letting her go. 

 

“I know I'm your first wife, but…” She paused, not knowing quite how to phrase her question. 

 

“Have I bred a woman before, do you mean?” He was staring at the bed again. 

 

“Well… Yes,” Sansa mumbled. 

 

“You've nothing to worry about. I know what I'm doing.”

 

It was reassuring to hear and Sansa let Jaime pull her toward the bed. He turned and put his hands on her hips, lifting her gently and laying her across the creaky mattress. 

 

“I suppose your father had you locked up properly and kept from boys all your life, didn't he?” Jaime climbed atop the bed as well, draping himself over her. 

 

Sansa nodded. “He sent you the key to my belt, didn't he?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Jaime murmured, grazing her nose with his own. “We'll get to that.”

 

Sansa raised her chin up as his lips descended upon hers. They were smoother than her own, most likely from the abundance of water here at the citadel. Clearly, he knew what he was doing. His lips moved over hers, pressing and sucking at her mouth in a way that made her burn from the inside out. 

 

She shifted restlessly against him, opening her mouth for him and letting him twist his tongue against hers. His breathing seemed so calm compared to the ragged gasps he was pulling from her. It felt as though her heart would beat out of her chest at the feel of it. 

 

“You're quite eager,” he noted with a grin, pulling away from her. 

 

“I feel aflame,” she murmured, hiding her face from him by ducking into his neck. 

 

Jaime rested his chin against her head for a moment before pulling away and yanking a chain from around his neck. On the end of it dangled a shiny steel key. Sansa's breath caught in her chest. The only times she'd been out of her belt since her blood came were when they'd gotten too tight and she was fitted with a new one. She'd even bathed and used the toilet with them on. 

 

Holding the key in his hand, Jaime leaned back into her and kissed her neck, trailing his lips from her jaw down to the tops of her breasts. 

 

With a great rip, his mechanical hand tore at the gauzy white wrappings she wore, tearing them off her body. She frowned. In Gas Town, they saved their clothes as long as they could. Everything was in limited supply. 

 

“Am I not to wear that again?” She asked, distractedly watching him unwrap her as one might tear at the wrappings of a gift. 

 

“You'll wear crimson when the week is through,” he'd finally exposed her skin, pale from all her years wrapped in thick grey clothes to protect her from the sun and fires of Gas Town. “Until then, your skin will suffice.”

 

She squirmed under his gaze. It felt far more exposing than being naked around her sister or Mordane ever had. 

 

Jaime hardly took note of her discomfort. He tore his own shirt away before resting his body atop hers, pressing their skin together. Her nipples were hard against him and she could feel his heart beating steadily against her own. She felt safer than she thought she would. 

 

He went back to kissing her, making her arc up against him. On her thigh, just below her belt, she could feel the hardness between his legs. She'd been told of this, somewhat vaguely, but nevertheless she knew what it was and what it meant. 

 

Jaime kept kissing her, but pulled his body away from her, mechanical hand fumbling with the fastenings of his pants before he freed himself and kicked them down his legs. He was completely bare when he returned his weight to her and she could feel the hard heaviness of him on her thigh. It seemed to burn hotter than the rest of him and she squirmed, not knowing quite what it was her body needed. 

 

Jaime huffed through his nostrils and pulled away, pushing himself up to kneel between her legs. Finally, finally, he used the key he'd been holding. It slid into the lock on her belt easily and clicked when he turned it. First the right lock, then the left. It hinged open like a shell and she lifted her hips for him to slide it off entirely. 

 

Sansa sighed and smiled a little as he tossed the belt aside. It landed with a heavy clank on the floor. She could be certain that for this week, at least, she wouldn't have to wear a belt at all. After the week, though, perhaps Jaime would make her wear another. She supposed he'd let her know when the time came. 

 

Jaime spent a few moments staring down at her, and she took the time to look over his strongly muscles abdomen and the hardness between his legs. It looked too big to fit, and yet, something made her want it to. She reached out and stroked it lightly. It twitched against her fingers, making her want it even more. It was a queer anomaly, she thought, as she took it into her fist fully, stroking up and down, feeling the way it jumped under her ministrations. The skin of it was so very soft, but it felt so solid and rigid at the same time. There was a slit in the tip of it and a clear liquid oozed out in pearly tears. She ran a finger over it. It was slippery and clung like saliva when she pulled her finger away. She brought the finger up to her mouth and drew it against her tongue, tasting him. Salty, but not unpleasant. It didn't occur to her to blush as he watched her. 

 

Sansa bent her knees up to frame his hips, letting her legs spread and expose her juncture to him. She put her hand back on his cock, stroking the head with her thumb, then pulled lightly, urging him toward her. She knew he had to fit himself inside, but it just seemed so large. He was twice the length of her fist, and her fingers just barely wrapped around him to meet her thumb. He let her do as she wished, and flopped forward, catching himself on his forearm before he crushed her. 

 

Their new position let his cock rest against her mound and Sansa used her hand to stroke him from one side as she got used to feeling him against her. Jaime dipped his hips slightly, running the underside against the upper part of her folds. Sansa gasped, feeling a rush of heat between her legs. He'd rubbed against something so sensitive, she needed to feel it again. She adjusted her hips so that he now rested against that spot, and pressed him to her, squeezing him against her. Jaime let his head hang against her shoulder as he moved slightly, thrusting lightly along her. Sansa felt nearly frozen, though her hips moved of their own accord, fitting into a rhythm with him. As they moved, it felt as though something were building, and she could feel where they rubbed against each other become slick as he slid against her. 

 

Just when she felt as though she could take no more of this, the feeling crested and her body seized up. She cried out and moved her hand to cling to Jaime’s waist as he kept moving against her. It was like being unmade and then remade and it left her weak and panting beneath him. 

 

Jaime slowed his motions and stared down at her for a moment before leaning in to kiss her soundly on the mouth. 

 

“That was…” She began breathlessly. 

 

“Just the start,” he finished. 

 

Jaime dipped his hips lower, sliding along her cleft a few times before he pressed and she felt him catch on the edge of something within her. She gasped slightly as he began to slide into the dip he'd found. It first felt like being opened up, and then, just inside that opening, there was resistance and a pinch as it seemed to give and he slid smoothly into her. 

 

“Oh,” she whispered. She supposed now that he was in, the pain would come. “Will it hurt now?”

 

“Did it not hurt just then?” He asked, quizzically raising a brow.

 

“Not really.” The pinch had been sharp, but that was all. There was a slight ache, but she mostly felt warm and full of him. 

 

Jaime rocked his hips back and then forward again, pressing into her, and drawing a gasp. It was an exquisite feeling, impossible to describe. As he did it, some part of him rubbed on the sensitive nub from before and Sansa spread her knees apart more, letting him press in a bit deeper. 

 

His gasp as he sunk in deeper made her bite her lip. She was having this effect on him, and if the way his breathing had sped up to match her own was any indication, she was doing a good job of pleasing him. 

 

He continued thrusting into her, building up a teasing sensation. It wasn't as before where her peak had built and seemed to rush toward her. This was more as though she was chasing something she knew she couldn't catch. The spikes of intense pleasure were less frequent than they had been before, and frustration grew within her. She whined into his shoulder, restlessly thrusting her hips up to him, trying to get back the earlier friction from when he'd simply been rubbing against her. 

 

Sansa’s fingernails bit into his shoulders and he let out a surprised grunt. Jaime pressed his face to her neck and kissed her there for a moment before opening his mouth wide and biting down on the delicate tissue there. Surely there would be a bruise when they were finished. It wouldn't be the only one; the fingers of his metal hand dug harshly into her hip as his thrusts sped up and became less controlled. He fell out of rhythm above her, panting through his teeth against her neck. She felt the two hissed syllables of her name more than she heard them, and he shuddered to a halt, pressed hard against her, sheathed deeply within her. Jaime’s heavy breathing continued as he trembled above her. She could feel slight movements of his member inside her, and the strangest feeling, it was the wet rush of moonblood or arousal, but so much more, and repeatedly. She supposed it was his seed which gushed into her in pulsing spurts. 

 

When it had all finished and he'd been still for a while, he rolled away, pulling out of her and leaving her empty and aching with a slick of seed smeared across her thighs. 

 

“That was… much better than I had expected. I thought it would be a painful chore.”

 

“Not if you've got the right partner,” Jaime sighed and turned on his side to look at her. He reached out and pulled her close, cradling her against his warm body. 

**Author's Note:**

> By 'woman grown' Sansa means 'has experienced puberty'. She's about 15.


End file.
